


before I even thought you

by neyvenger (jjjat3am)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/neyvenger
Summary: Five times Auba and Felix play-fought and one time  they fought for real they made up





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imkerin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imkerin/gifts).



> Dear giftee! I never thought I'd end up writing this pairing, but I'm glad I could give it a try and I hope it's what you were thinking of.
> 
> For people new to this pairing, here's some photo inspiration ([x](https://www.instagram.com/p/BI0f6zyA4fr/), [x](https://www.instagram.com/p/BIF9enAgbOD/)). Auba calls him Big Fiffy. I don't know y'all. Why are footballers like this?
> 
> Thanks to Merc for the beta. You complete me.
> 
> Title is from Tegan and Sara, "[Nineteen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9B-MluGscaE)"

 

 

**1.**

  
  


“Remember, when you’re passing to Auba, pass it a few meters further than you think he might be able to reach. It’s the easiest, until you get a feel for exactly how quick he is,” Tuchel says, and Felix leans forward with the rest of the new boys, to hear the instructions better. “When the ball is in the opposing half, don’t bother tracking back unless you’re absolutely sure you’ll get it. Leave it to Auba, he can outrun all of you.”

 

The sun is beating down on the training grounds. They’ve barely warmed up, but sweat is already running down his back, lingering uncomfortably at the dip and his ass crease. Felix doesn’t know why they’re training in the middle of high summer, but he trusts Tuchel to know what’s best. He’s a lot nicer and more approachable in person, if just as intense as on TV.

 

Auba is standing next to Tuchel, bouncing minutely on the balls of his feet, his body a constant mishmash of movement. He looks attentive, though his gaze is distracted, directed somewhere past the group, to the entrance to the training grounds. Almost like he’s waiting for something.

 

Felix gets caught in the sight of his profile against the cloudless blue sky. 

 

He’d always been a bit brash, too prone to pushing boundaries to see how far they could go. It used to drive his parents and teachers to distraction. It’s some of that that has him raising his hand and cutting Tuchel off mid speech. He gets a nod and wets his lips before speaking.

 

“What if we can? Outrun him?”

 

Tuchel tilts his head quizzically, while the rest of the squad giggles around them.

 

“Outrun Auba?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Felix dares to move his gaze from the coach to the man in question and finds him looking back, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

 

“We’ll test it,” Auba says, his accent clinging to the vowels.

 

A few minutes later, they line up at the halfway line. One of the assistant coaches is holding a stopwatch, and while the rest have dispersed to other activities, Felix can feel that the whole attention of the grounds on them.

 

“We’ll do it like this,” Auba says, dropping into a standing start. Felix mimics him obediently and takes a deep breath. Their elbows brush together.

 

“Go,” the assistant coach says and Felix pushes off.

 

The thing is, he’s always been fast. It’s an underrated skill for a right back, but it’s always been a part of his game. He used to outsprint all the kids in his class during PE. And for a moment, that seems like it actually might be enough. He and Auba are running neck and neck, and the onrushing wind is almost cooling.

 

It hits him, somewhere midway down the track that he may have made a bit of a miscalculation,  when his muscles start screaming at him from the strain. Auba pushes from what must have been a comfortable jog into full acceleration, and all Felix sees is his back, blurry from how fast he’s going, or maybe from the sweat stinging his eyes.

 

He crosses the imaginary finish line, soaked and gasping. Auba is waiting for him, hardly breathing heavy, laughing under his breath.

 

“Alright,” Felix gasps out. “You’re good, I admit it.”

 

Auba laughs out loud and reaches out to sling his arm around Felix’s sweaty shoulders, guiding him back to the group.

 

“I am,” he says. “The sooner you find out, the better.”

 

Felix leans into him, pushing at the steady weight of his side, but Auba doesn’t let go, just tightens his grip, laughing into Felix’s ear. Felix gives in and laughs too.

 

He’d lost the race, but he got what he wanted - Auba’s full attention.

  
  
  


**2.**

  
  


“We should go out tonight,” Auba announces to the locker room after training one day. Felix looks up from his things to find Schmelle nodding in agreement. 

 

“We haven’t, in awhile,” he says, “I don’t even remember what’s open anymore.”

 

“That’s because you’re an old man now,” Manni chimes in from his locker, “all you do is raise your dogs with Nuri.”

 

“I hate dogs!” comes Nuri’s voice from the showers, but everyone knows he doesn’t mean it. Or at least that he loves Schmelle more than he hates dogs.

 

“Very funny,” Schemelle says dryly, after the laughter has died down. “Now, any suggestions?”

 

There’s a few murmurs among the squad, but no one volunteers.

 

“Prisma?” Mario says, cautiously. There’s a beat of silence, heavy with awkwardness. It happens sometimes, when Mario enters the conversation, though Felix has noticed that the others always rush to cover it up.

 

“Prisma’s closed now,” Lukasz says, almost gently, and Mario deflates. Schmelle messes up his hair as walks past and that seems to perk him up a little.

 

There’s a few more suggestions, but nothing they can agree on. Finally, and feeling like he should be raising his hand, Felix speaks up.

 

“I heard The View was nice?” he says, and bites his tongue when the attention of the whole squad focuses on him.

 

There’s a beat of silence.

 

“You heard the kid,” Auba says. He’s not wearing a shirt and he’s fresh out of the showers, and Felix finds himself lingering over the rivulets of water sliding down his chest and disappearing into the towel slung precariously around his hips. “The View it is.”

  
  


*

  
  


So Felix finds himself squeezed in the passenger seat of Auba’s Porsche in his best button-up shirt and skinny jeans. He still feels underdressed next to Auba’s ensemble, but then again, he’s got a feeling that most people would be. 

 

They walk up to the club and bypass the lines, the doors opening up magically anywhere Auba flashes his smile. The music is pounding and loud, but Felix needs a few more drinks in him before he can go dancing, so he pulls Auba toward the VIP section, gratified when he follows without complaint. 

 

There’s already a few of their teammates in, and Felix slides in next to Manni, who’s spiritedly explaining something to Christian, who looks as wide-eyed as Felix feels.

 

“What are you drinking?” Auba says near his ear, and Felix almost jumps, startled. It’s almost intimate, Auba pressing into his side to fit on the bench and leaning down to be heard clearly. “Come to think of it, are you even old enough to drink?”

 

That last part he says a little bit louder and the table around them laughs.

 

“You better hope he is,” Roman says from across the table, where he’s sipping his cranberry vodka, but Felix choses to frown at Auba instead of asking him what he means by that.

 

“Of course I’m old enough to drink!” Felix says, suddenly aware of how far back he needs to lean his head to look at Auba properly, “I’m eighteen! Also, I’m German, we start drinking beer when we’re in our diapers and it only goes up from there.”

 

That gets him a laugh and he preens a little under the too bright lights.

 

“As babies, you say?” Auba says, acting faux surprised and leaning into Felix’s shoulder. “Do they put it into your bottle and everything?”

 

“Yes,” Felix says, committed to the joke now, “in fact, it makes you immune to all but the strongest of alcohol!”

 

“Spoken like a man who’s going to get carried home tonight,” Papa says into his glass of beer.

  
  


*

  
  


Felix doesn’t remember most of the night the next morning, but he does know that at some point he’d taken a tequila shot, and Auba had pressed a lime wedge to his lips, while Roman crooned something about baby bottles somewhere near his ear.

  
  
  
  


**3.**

  
  
  


“Get her chocolate, everyone likes chocolate!” 

 

Felix, Emre and Christian are in the middle of brainstorming a perfect gift for Emre’s girlfriend on their one month anniversary. So far they’d dismissed jewelry as too much, and football jerseys on account of her having too many already. Christian is firmly in the flowers camp, while Felix is adamant that an assortment of chocolates are the way to her heart.

 

“I don’t like chocolate,” Auba chimes in, distractedly, from where he’s draped over the players lounge sofa, reading a magazine.

 

The trio lapses into silence, staring at him. Finally, Felix takes a deep breath.

 

“...excuse me?” he says through gritted teeth.

 

“I don’t like chocolate,” Auba says, calmly, “well, except for the really dark one. It has to have at least 80% percent cacao.”

 

Felix straightens to his full height, which is admittedly not much. 

 

“I am so disappointed in you,” he starts, and Auba looks up, alarmed by his serious tone, “I thought you were a better man than this, but it seems like I was wrong.”

 

“What-”

 

“I’m sorry, we can’t be friends if you like the bitterness squares.”

  
  


*

  
  


The week after that, someone rings on Felix’s doorbell early in the morning. He blearily signs the postman’s slip and gets a box, which he takes to his kitchen counter. He doesn’t really remember ordering anything and the return address is in Paris, which is doubly mysterious.

 

He opens it up to a beautiful box of assorted chocolates. The chocolate is so dark it seems to glisten in the early morning light. He knows who it’s from, and that it’s probably a joke, but he can’t help blushing anyway.

 

They’re delicious.

  
  
**4.**  
  


 

“Are you comfortable up there, then?”

 

‘Up there’ is Felix straddling Auba’s hips, pressing him down into the mattress, so all in all it’s a pretty comfortable place to be.

 

Felix nods instead of answering, leaning down to capture Auba’s lips. Auba’s an excellent, if frustrating kisser. He always lets Felix set the pace to start with, but stops him from rushing too much, gentling the kiss, biting on Felix’s bottom lip and breaking off to mouth at his neck.

 

The power he feels with Auba’s body under his is unreal. Felix pushes down, grinding their hips together, relishing the way Auba gasps at the contact. They’ve both lost their shirts somewhere on the way to the bed, and Auba’s hands are skimming across the muscles of his back, across his chest, stopping to tweak a nipple, which makes Felix whine high in his throat.

 

But Felix has always liked pushing his boundaries, so he catches Auba’s hands and presses them back onto the mattress with his full strength. 

 

He isn’t weak by any means, but he’s seen Auba in the gym - if he wanted to, he could break the hold in a second. But he doesn’t.

 

He lets Felix do as he pleases, looking up at him with dark eyes and a small smile playing around his lips. Felix takes advantage, grinding slow, as slow as he can manage with his cock full and heavy against the seam of his jeans, through the shaking muscles in his legs.

 

It works enough to break Auba’s unshakeable composure, and he throws his head back, his neck an inviting arch. Felix leans down to kiss it, but all he can do is pant wetly against it, when Auba cants his hips just right.

 

And then, using every ounce of self control he has, Felix stops moving.

 

Auba growls under his breath and opens his eyes. Felix gives him his most challenging smile.

 

Before he even realizes, Auba is breaking out of his hold and flipping them over, pinning Felix’s arms and holding him in place with his body. Felix struggles a little bit, giggling under his breath.

 

Auba leans down to kiss him, lightly, just a soft press of lips, and Felix goes limp under his hands. He feels the shape of Auba’s smile where it’s pressed up against his lips.

  
  
  


**5.**

  
  
  


“What’s that supposed to be?” 

 

Felix startles and almost drops the spatula when Auba’s hands wrap around his middle. It’s still fairly early in the morning, hours before they have to be at practice, and Felix feels weirdly triumphant at being the one to wake up first for once.

 

“Your breakfast, actually.”

 

Auba stops nuzzling at Felix’s throat to peer distrustfully at the pan. It’s eggs, or they were, at some point. They might be a little charred around the edges now.

 

“They, uh, look very smokey,” Auba says, diplomatically. He’s reaching around Felix to turn off the heat and to take the spatula away from him. Felix lets him, pouting.

 

“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed!” he complains, but lets himself be steered away from the stove.

 

“Aww, babe,” Auba murmurs in his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You can pour milk on my cereal if you want.”

  
  


*

 

 

**+1**

 

 

They’re already deeply in the month of January before Marco comes back to practice. It’s cold, so cold it burns through the gaps in Felix’s training gear, through the under armor. It’s worse for Auba, who looks almost like a yellow and black snowman, and huddles with Felix in his arms on every break, while they listen to instructions.

 

It’s been months since Auba has looked longingly at the entrance to the training ground.

 

“Hey, guys. Guess who’s back?”

 

Maybe that’s why it’s so startling to see the way Auba’s head goes up, an expression of pleased wonder growing on his face. 

 

“Marco!” he yells, taking off across the training ground. Felix watches them execute what must be at least a twenty step friendship handshake, culminating in a hug that seems to last just a beat too long.

 

Felix swallows against the dryness in his throat. 

 

Auba doesn’t look his way for the rest of training. Felix knows that because he never takes his eyes off him. Each time Auba laughs, loud and ringing, each time he leans against Marco’s shoulder, twists like a knife in his chest.

 

For the first time in a while, Felix is angry at himself for not taking his car. He drives in with Auba these days, either from Auba’s house, or Auba picking him up at his apartment. It’s gotten to be a comfortable thing, twisting into the Porsche seat in the morning and stealing a kiss behind tinted windows.

 

He thinks about grabbing a ride from one of the other guys, but in the end he just waits while the locker room clears out, tapping his heels against the surface of the bench. Schmelle passes him by and stops, gives him a sympathetic look that’s probably actually pity.

 

“They won’t be long now,” he says, “they’re just catching up, you know how it is.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Felix mutters to his feet. He doesn’t say anything else and after a moment, Schmelle sighs and walks away.

 

Eventually, Auba sticks his head into the locker room. He brightens when he sees Felix and Felix hates how it makes his heart soar hopefully.

 

“There you are! I was afraid you’d gone,” Auba says, beckoning him over. “Come meet Marco.”

 

Felix doesn’t bother telling him he’s met Marco before, just grabs his bag and follows.

 

Marco looks good. He’s pale, and his hair is expertly teased into a haircut that looks like it could withstand the apocalypse. He takes Felix’s hand when Auba introduces him, and doesn’t mention the times they’ve played together before, just sends him assessing looks from under his eyelashes while Auba chatters on.

 

Felix feels uncomfortably exposed under his gaze. Like he’s being judged.

 

He doesn’t know Marco well enough to say if he passed.

  
  


*

  
  


Felix is quiet during the ride home. Auba doesn’t even seem to notice, recounting a story about Marco and a wild night out. It’s exactly the sort of thing Felix doesn’t want to hear from him right now, but he doesn’t say anything, staring out the window instead. It’s supposed to snow in a few days, and the sky looks murky and grey, almost violet in the setting sun. 

 

Auba drives to his house automatically, and when they come in, Felix hits the lights and takes a moment, while Auba rummages around in the hallway, to realize exactly how much of his stuff has managed to migrate to Auba’s place over the past three months. 

 

There’s his coat and a few sets of scarves next to Auba’s in the hallway. One of his training jackets is draped over a chair in the dining room and there are his magazines and DVDs mixing up with Auba’s. Their toothbrushes are side-by-side in the bathroom. And the bedroom is the worst, because they’re both messy as hell and Felix keeps accidentally putting on Auba’s sweaters in the morning only to realize he looks ridiculous when he looks in the mirror.

 

Just the thought of moving all this stuff is giving him a headache.

 

Felix takes a deep breath.

 

“So when do you want me out of here?” he says quietly, marveling at how steady and unaffected his voice sounds. Auba stops what he’s doing, and judging by the sound, takes a few steps into the living room. Felix doesn’t look up from his shoes. “I don’t have a lot, but it might take me a while to find everything of mine. I think there’s something in the wash too.”

 

“What?” Auba says, softly, then something unintelligible in French. “I mean. I thought you were settling in well here?”

 

Felix looks up at the plaintive tone in his voice, searching the shock on Auba’s face.

 

“I’d just assumed that you and Marco would want to take up where you left off.”

 

“Felix-”

 

“I know I was just a placeholder, okay?” Felix realizes his tone is approaching dangerous levels of hysteria and takes another deep breath. “I’ll get out of your way.” 

 

There’s moisture gathering at the edges of his eyes and he blinks quickly to get it out of the way. It doesn’t really help, especially when Auba starts speaking in this really soft tone, the one he uses on upset children in signing queues. And that stings, because Felix is upset, but he’s not a child.

 

“Me and Marco aren’t together, Felix,” Auba says, gently, “you and me are.”

 

“But you want to be,” Felix says, unable to keep the accusing tone out of his voice. Auba’s moved closer, and he can see his bare feet in his peripheral vision. It’s intimate and domestic, and it makes a fresh batch of tears well up in his eyes.

 

“I don’t,” Auba says, and his fingers touch Felix’s elbow carefully. Felix doesn’t flinch away and when Auba gently folds him into a hug, he goes.

 

“I didn’t know,” Felix whispers against his chest. “You never said and I didn’t...I didn’t know how to ask.”

 

Auba sighs against his hair.

 

“I thought you knew and I shouldn’t have assumed,” he says, pulling back to run his fingers under Felix’s chin, gently tilting his head up so their gazes meet. Felix watches the play of emotions over Auba’s expressive face, and wonders how he could have missed them. “I want you and I want to be with you. Is that okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Felix says, rising on his toes to steal a kiss, “that’s okay.”

  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> \- those are actual clubs in Dortmund, if you're ever up for a visit  
> \- Auba is a full 17 cm taller than Felix and if you listen closely you can hear me yelling in the distance  
> \- this is not a child-rearing manual - do not give your children alcohol, even if you're German  
> \- I think I stole the 'bitterness squares' off a tumblr post I can't find right now, so if you know it, link it to me so I can credit it properly  
> \- Marco's recovery timeline is an approximation. I have no insider information


End file.
